Menace
by stella brillare
Summary: There are two kinds of folk who sit around thinking about how to kill people. I'm the kind that pays better.
1. one: flowers for your grave

**Name: **Menace  
**Characters: **Gale Hawthorne, Madge Undersee. Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark. Original Characters.  
**Summary: **There are two kinds of folk who sit around thinking about how to kill people. Psychopaths and mystery writers. I'm the kind that pays better.

* * *

_Murder, Mystery. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, the femme fatale and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamps burning into the wee hours of the morning?_

* * *

The music plays loudly, the bass almost strong enough that the lyrics couldn't be made out as she walks along the outgoing lines of people, her felt pen in her cramping hand as she signs the open pages while she walks, trying to get as many signed as she can. The echo of her publicist voice ringing through her head, telling her to keep the people happy. Her smile is as genuine as she can make it with the lights flashing in her eyes. It's like this for a half hour as she walks to the host building.

When she does finally get inside, it's not much better. People are all over her, asking her to sign whatever is in reach. And if there's no paper, well then their skin is a wonderful canvas. She doesn't get a break for an hour, and when she does, it's straight to the bar.

"Hey, hot stuff," the voice of the brunette rings in her ear, and the writer's face perks up at the sight of her friend.

"Hey, Mara." She greets before looking at the man behind the counter and ordering her normal drink. "Enjoying my party?"

"Oh, you know kinda boring." Mara jokes and when she's about to continue, she catches sight of the blonde checking her phone. "Madge, do you check that thing every twenty minutes or something? I swear, whenever you have a second of down time you're on that thing."

Madge chuckles, shaking her head before thanking the bartender when he slides her drink over to her. "What can I say, I'm a girl who loves her technology."

"This party is for _you_ though, to celebrate your awesome book! The one that's supposedly keeping readers on the edge of their chairs, sleepless nights until they finish it only to have their hearts ripped out of their chest at the protagonist's fate. Don't you want to celebrate it with your adoring fans?

She takes a sip of the sparkling drink, leaning her side against the counter. Setting her glass down, her lips pop together with a shake of her head. "It's always the same kinda thing. I'm your biggest fan, you have the best ideas. You're so pretty! Your chest look _awesome _, here, have my number." A sigh escapes her lips. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just want someone to come up to me and actually talk to me about my books, I want to have an in depth and genuine conversation about what I've written, you know, the back story of the characters or why they're behaving as I do. Maybe even talk about the freaking circus that's coming in next month, God, I just want something new. "

Her gaze drops from the brunette next to her to the counter top as she turns, using the counter as a support to get the weight, which she'd been carrying all day on three-inch heels, off of her legs. Her hair falls from behind her head, framing her face as it hangs above her shoulders.

"Madge Undersee." She hears a cold voice say over all the music and surrounding conversation. She mentally sighs, not wanting to deal with someone who simply wants a signature or picture, something to show off that they actually met her.

But she puts on a fake smile, the one she's mastered so well.

"That's me." She looks up as she speaks, the short layers of her hair tickling along her cheekbones as she does. Her bright eyes meet with his dark ones, he doesn't look pleased or excited. She'd thought that the cold voice was an attempt to remain cool in front of his favorite author, but she had been proven wrong by the dark haired man standing in front of her.

"I'm Detective Gale Hawthorne, I need to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?"

"Well," Mara says, leaning over and grabbing the pen that Madge had. "I mean, he's not talking about the circus, but it's definitely something new."

There's a soft chortle in response, and the blonde straightens her stance.

"I'm in the middle of a book release party, surrounded by crazy fans." She licks her top lip, a devious smile forming on her face. "I'll do anything to get away from this." And with a soft chuckle, she grabs the small clutch sitting next to her glass. "As long as we can keep this sort of meeting out of the public knowledge, my publicist would skin me alive if she finds out that I'm being questioned by cops."

* * *

When he walks in the room, her legs are crossed at the ankles. Her blonde hair is brushed messily over her right shoulder as she traces circles on the metal table with her left hand. Her face is plain, no emotion.

"Alright, Ms. Undersee." He says as he walks in, a co-worker following closely behind him. They sit across from her, and she relaxes in her chair slightly. "As I've said before, I'm Detective Hawthorne with the homicide department, this is.."

She cuts him off, sitting straight, the look of confusion pulling on her face. "Wait, homicide? As in, investigating people who have been killed and trying to find who killed them?"

"Yes, exactly. Now, this is Detective Jones. We have a few questions to ask you. First," He slides a picture across the table. A young man, slick black hair and a clean shave. He's wearing a simple black suit, but it's complimented with a red bow-tie.

"Do you know him?" The detective, Jones, asks her in a tender voice. "You know, did you meet him at a party, book signing, go to college with him or anything like that?"

"Detective, I meet a _lot _of people. It's possible that I've met him, but we don't know each other. He's not my best friend and we don't go singing show-tunes through Central Park in the summer time."

Hawthrone purses his lips together, sliding another picture, this one of a blonde girl, across the table. "What about this girl? Jessalyn Tisdale, she's a lawyer. Ever deal with her?"

She exhales visibly, flipping her hair out of her face. "Nope. Detectives, what is this about, really."

Jones answers the tough questions, that's how it is when he follows others into interrogations. He's nicer, more in-tune with others feelings. "We found Miss Tisdale earlier this evening, laying out on her bed, peacefully, with a bouquet of flowers. Last week we found Mr. Jameson laying in a pool of blood. Animal, blood."

She raises her brow, mouth opened slightly as she tries to think of a response. She stumbles over several words before finally forming a sentence. "From my books?" She chuckles, and he assumes that the weirdness of the situation has gotten to her head when she follows up. "Guess I have a fan."

"Yeah," Hawthorne replies with a slight scoff. "A really insane fan."

She gives him a curious look, shaking her head slightly. "You mean you?"

"What?"

Her lips are pursed together in reply. "Come on, no one would have made the connection between Tisdale and blood-man if they hadn't read my books. Especially with blood-man, that book barely sold any."

Jones changes the topic back from the shift. "You get fan letters, right?" She nods. "Any of them from deranged fans?"

Once again, she sighs, leaning forward against the table. "Detective Jones, all my fans are, therefore, all my fan mail matches."

Hawthorne stands, preparing to end this no-where conversation. "Okay, so you wouldn't care if we read your mail?"

"Knock yourself out." She relaxes back into her chair and Hawthorne moves towards the door. Pulling it open, and as he prepares to step out, she hears her call back to him. "But let me know if any cute guys send their pictures."

Jones comes out shortly after. "Well, that was less than helpful." He says, walking over to their board.

"Yeah." Hawthorne give his usual short reply, his face tight as he studies the white board, in desperate need of a connection. "Get a hold of her publisher to get the mail down here. Try and keep her here in case the publisher tries to give us trouble, you never know with these people anymore."

[...]

"Hawthorne!" He jolts, balling his hands into a fist as he recovers from the startle. His gaze looks up towards Captain Abernathy and the author. "Miss Undersee has offered to help with the investigation, given the fact that she basically came up with these crime scenes she might be of some assistance. I take it won't be a problem?"

"No, Sir." Hawthorne replies, shaking his head.

Madge wears a smirk on her face as the captain walks away after giving a nod of acceptance. _Wait until the guys get wind of this. _She bites her bottom lip when the uniforms walk in, bins of envelopes in arms. She flips her line of sight back to the detective, giving her gentlest smile. "So, what first?"

"Well," He walks towards a room off to the side, next to the one where she'd had her 'interrogation', "Are you ready to see what some of your fans have to say?"

She groans; wishing that she'd be able to do something more exciting, some helpful. Like speeding through the streets with sirens blaring, or the even better interrogation of a suspect. Really get into the criminal mind, after all all of her research had been done on speculation. And this, this case where she has a copy cat? The perfect inspiration for a new novel.

She can see it on the store shelves now, the title something simple like "Copier". Okay, so it was a work in progress, but reading her fan-mail? She could have done that without getting into this investigation.

She follows the detective into the room, taking seat next to him and he tosses her a pair of gloves. Her eyebrow is raised and she doesn't even need to ask the question before he catches on.

"This is all potential evidence, can't have you mucking it up with your grimy hands."

She scoffs, shaking her head but pulling the gloves on nonetheless. And she dives in.

They sit, reading through the ever popular letters which she was sent. So far, they've all been to the effect of '_Oh, Madge! You have such wonderful stories, your plots are full and I want to write just like you some day_'.

It's what seems like hours later when she looks up from the lined paper. "So, Detective. Why are you here?"

His face looks slightly annoyed, but he answers with "It's my job. Some of us have to work for a living, you know." He turns back to the paper, but continues. "Why are _you _here? You don't have any connection to these people besides the killer has taken your ideas. And obviously you aren't the least bit upset by that."

She shrugs. "I'm curious. Curious to know the story, why'd they choose my books to copy and the people who they killed, I want to know why. But you being here, it doesn't make much sense. You don't look like the cop type. You look like you'd be a better lawyer or maybe a barista. Not a cop."

"A barista?"

She shrugs, "I'm just trying to make my point. You don't look like the kind of person who would be a cop. Wanna know what I think?" The paper in her hands has since found its way to the table, and she leans forward and continues, without giving him room to actually answer the question. "I think that something happened. Maybe not to you, but someone close to you. And now, you've taken up this profession to get justice for them."

There's a pregnant pause before she leans back into her chair, grabbing the letter and resuming reading.

"Neat trick," he counters. "But you don't know me."

* * *

_I had a dream last night where Gale and Madge were Castle and Beckett, and that lead to me writing this out. This chapter is basically the pilot episode of Castle, but once we get past that (I can't think of any other way for the two of them to get into partnership with each other), it'll take a different turn, one unique to Gale and Madge. Basically, if you can't tell, Gale is Beckett and Madge is Castle. (I was originally going to have that switched, but I decided that since we don't know much about Madge from canon, that she'd be more like Castle and Gale Beckett. Despite the obvious differences. Like body parts)_

_Katniss and Peeta will come in the next chapter. If there are any Castle fans out there I'd love to hear who you think they're gonna be in a review? Or even what you think of the idea. _


	2. two: flowers for your grave

She pushes the door open, and as soon as she's over the threshhold, there's a clattering as her keys land on the side table, sliding back against the wall due to the force which she'd thrown them. The door closes rather hard, causing the framed pictures hanging on her wall to shake slightly.

"Madge?" A voice emerging from the dimly light living room calls out a few moments later.

"Yeah." The author sheds her leather jacket, revealing the light blue cocktail dress she was wearing as she hangs the coat on the hook near the door.

"When you texted me saying you were going to be late I didn't really expect it to be 5 in the morning before you got home." There's a frown on the girl's face, but it doesn't wear true in her words. "I know you were at a party, but you haven't been out past 12:30 in a while."

There's a pregnant silence as Madge shrugs, walking into the front room. "Jaina went down okay?" She questions nonchalantly.

"Fine, yeah. Watched The Little Mermaid a couple dozen times and she was out like a light by ten. You didn't slip up, did you?"

"I'm _fine_. Swear it. No excessive drinking or partying done here." There's irritation in her tone as she gestures to her body at the last words. "Really. I'm responsible, promise."

"Then why are you home so late? I have to be to work in two hours and I've been up all night worrying about you."

"I had to go to the police station, they had to question me about a couple things."

"And you call that _fine_?" Whisper yelling was never a good sign, especially when it came to the feisty brunette who Madge had come to trust with her life. "The hell did you do this time? I thought you were going to set an example for Jaina? I know all the charges against you have always been dropped because the mayor is a fan" She applies air quotes to the word fan, causing Madge to roll her eyes at her friend at the implication. "But you can't keep screwing around, Undersee."

The use of her last name cracks Madge, and she slaps her hands against the back of the sofa she was standing behind, her lips pursed together tightly as she turns around, now facing her. "I didn't do anything. I'd appreciate it if you didn't accuse me of things, can't you just trust my word? God, Bellie, I thought you knew me better than that." She shakes her head, a slight chuckle escaping her lips as her gaze meets the ceiling. "They had to ask me about some murders because some psychotic killer is copying what I'm writing and transforming it to real life murders, okay? I'm tired, Jaina shouldn't be up for a few hours and I'd like to get some sleep before then."

She doesn't wait for a response before continuing down the hall and through her office to her bedroom and quickly stripping out of the dress and heels into a simple pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt. It only takes a second after her head hits the pillow for sleep to consume her.

* * *

She wakes to the wailing of a three year old, screaming her favorite word of the month "Mama." Before she stands, she glances at the clock and quickly calculates the math of how much sleep she had gotten (3 hours and 26 minutes to be exact). It doesn't bother her too much, but the grogginess of the morning causes that fact to be pushed aside as she walks up the stairs to the child's room.

"Hey, chickadee." Her face is coated in joy at the mere sight of the little redhead, bouncing in her crib. "Should we go get some breakfast?" As Madge asks the question, she lifts the little girl out of the crib.

"Eat." Is the simple response.

After dressing Jaina and herself, when they're both fed and Madge has had about ten cups of coffee, (which seems like a record for her, since it's only been about 45 minutes since she's woken) the little girl is situated in front of the TV with a cup of apple juice and a mushed banana, fixated by the talking animated cars on the screen with Madge sitting just behind her on the sofa when her phone rings.

It's an unrecognized number but it's from the New York area, she can tell by the area code, so she hesitantly hits the answer button.

"It's Madge."

"Undersee." The flat voice on the other end responds. "If you're going to help with the investigation, and I pray that you've changed your mind, there are a few things that's come up that might peak your interest. If you come down to the precinct we can go over them."

"Of course I'm still in, I just wasn't sure how you guys operated. I'll be there in a half hour." And then she hits the line dead.

True to her word thirty minutes later she stepped out of a cab in front of the 12th Precinct, her hair back in a messy bun and a pair of dark Ray Bans resting on her face to block the bright rays of the sun. As she's just stepping off the elevator on the homicide floor, Detective Hawthorne, Jones, and a female who she hasn't met before are walking towards her.

"You, writer girl, have awesome timing." Unnamed Detective tells her as she walks past.

"Uhhh..." She asks, befuddled.

"We got another call for another body. If you're coming lets go."

"Okay, just tell me where to go." Her tone comes off slightly sarcastic as she trails a few feet behind.

"Jones and Everdeen always go together, so guess you're with me, Blondie." Hawthorne says as the reach his car. He pulls open his door and climbs in; Madge does the same as he starts the ignition.

"There are a few rules of my car. No music." He states, and it causes Madge to chuckle, mumbling something vaguely resembling the word "typical" under her breath. "As I said before it's _my _car, therefore I drive. No exceptions." He continues to explain a few more things, like it isn't a place to lounge so the seat stays put, no feet on the dashboard, things that Madge wouldn't dare do even if it weren't his car simply because Gale Hawthorne seemed to be the kind of guy that never had any fun.

They drive at a relatively fast pace, and Madge only assumes they do so simply because the first few hours of a find are the most cruitial, as evidence can be contaminated soon after. It's a silent drive, slightly uncomfortable for the normally talkative writer, but she doesn't complain becase, well, he's a cop and it could cause some tension. She doesn't know him well enough yet to know if he holds a grudge. He already can't stand her.

Approaching her first crime scene is an experience for Madge. As they climb out of the car there are more officers there than she'd seen in one location before, and it was almost nerve wracking. She keeps quiet as she follows Hawthorne under the police line (something she'd definetly be writing about in her blog, with permission of course) to meet up with Jones and Everdeen who started giving them the run down on what information they'd gathered.

Gale nods simply before turning to Madge. "Stay. Put." She rolls her eyes, raising two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. "Eye eye, Cappy."

She swears she can hear him groan before walking off and talking to, what wasn't a surprise to her at all, uniformed officers. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she manages only a few minutes before the curiosity of the medic examining the body gets the best to her. And before she realizes it, she's looking around to see everyone absorbed in their work and her feet are taking her over to the ME.

Madge bends down, her elbows resting on her hip when the doctor pipes up. "Hello..." The confusion is clear in her voice, to which Madge offers a friendly smile and a hand.

"Madge Undersee."

"The writer?"

Madge simply chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. "On the better days."

"Peeta Mellark, medical examiner."

"Pleasure." Madge responds simply, tilting her head to look at the body a bit more. The young male is dressed in a pair of white basketball shorts, tucked into it was a dark blue shirt, looking to be navy but Madge would need a color palette to confirm. She chews on her bottom lip, a habit she'd picked up in high school when she was trying to concentrate on an assignment, when she hears Peeta speak again.

"So, Ms. Undersee, how can I help you?"

She looks up, trying to speak in a friendly, yet professional, tone. "Have you seen any marks on his neck? You know, something similar to being chocked with a thin rope, something weaved?"

"No, I don't have an official ruling on COD but I promise it isn't choking. There's no evidence of that." His response is filled with the same confusion that he addressed her with only moments ago.

"It's just that, he was found under a pile of oak leaves, right?" Peeta nods. "His shirt is made of a silky like material and is the same shade of blue that the vic in the book had. But in my book he was wearing a weaved necklace that his sick daughter had made him and that's how the killer grabbed him. You know, pulling back on the necklace until he'd lost consciousness but not enough to kill him, and then finished the task while he unconscious, because it's less painful if they're asleep and you can't see their face or pain."

"Undersee!" The scolding voice is that of Hawthorne, once again not much of a surprise to Madge. "I told you to wait" he picks his hand up and points to his left, "over there."

She stands, brushing her shirt out before offering a sly grin. "Got lonely. Besides, your killer is getting sloppy." She sees the raised brow on Gale's face, the sign of confusion, and elaborates with the details of the necklace. "So, I figure if you're wanting to catch psycho serial killer you'll want to find him via dressy here, since if he's sloppy enough to miss the little details assuming someone wouldn't notice it, maybe he missed erasing some crucial evidence." Shrugging, she taps his shoulder. "Just a thought."

Hawthorne hesitantly nods, takes a breath, and puts a question on the table that Madge hadn't expected. "Why is this necklace so important?"

"Because. The idea for the necklace came from my childhood, when I was in kindergarten we made beaded bracelets for our parents, I gave mine to my Mom and she wore it everyday. Never took it off. So, the victim in my book had something similar, so that he could always have a piece of his daughter even when he couldn't be with her. It was the same reason my Mom had hers."

Gale nods once more before leaning over to a uniform officer asking him to look over the area once again to find any sort of evidence they may have missed, and he asked them to make a larger loop than before, which was something that wasn't done normally. He turns back to the blonde. "You got any other insightful comments that'll tell me how to do my job or can I be the detective now?"

"Nah, think that's it."

* * *

They're back at the precinct, Madge sitting in a wooden chair next to Gale's desk and staring blankly at the white board containing all the information they'd gathered. So far they'd found one link between the three, someone who had hired Tisdale to represent them, bought coffee every morning from their most recent vic, and was a friend of Jameson's ex-fiance. The only issue with that suspect was that he'd been out of town at the time of two of the murders and had never read a single one of Madge's books ("_The nerve of that guy!"_). She looks at the time on Gale's computer and sighs.

"We're not gonna get anywhere tonight, are we?" She questions, the sound of her voice making it so that the only sounds in the room were no longer the clicking of keys on the keyboards of flipping of papers.

"Not until we hear back from the lab on prints." He replies without looking up from his computer, where he was looking over phone records for the barista. "Unless you have some logical theory that only the _oh-so-brilliant _mind of an author could think up."

"Ha." She fake laughs, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair as she stands up. "Then I'm going home and I'm going to enjoy a dinner with my daughter, since I haven't been home four nights in a row to put her down and I'm sure my roommate would like the night off."

"You got a kid?" Jones, who had just walked up with a manilla folder in hand, asks.

Madge nods once, keeping her tone casual. "Yeah. She's kinda out of the spotlight since she's three and I want to leave the decision to be in it to her when she's old enough to decide if she wants that."

"Huh." Jones says, Madge gives a faint goodbye and turns on her heel, out of the corner of her eye she sees Jones tossing a folder on Hawthorne's desk. "Ballistic reports on the gun that Biggs had. Interesting stuff."

She licks her lips, smirking to herself before calling over her shoulder as she pushes the elevator button "Call me if anything cool happens!"

* * *

_Ten points and virtual cookies to the person who can tell me where I got the ideas for the names "Mara" (Madge's friend in chapter 1) "Jaina" (Madge's daughter) and "Biggs" (the suspect). I meant to wrap up the basis of the first case together this chapter, but it was starting to drag on. Also, if you leave your tumblr in the review I'll follow you! (hehe kinda rhymed) a thousand cookies and manips to **blurredrealities **for being awesome! Alsooo, Everlark made small appearances this chapter, but their relationship will be elaborated on a bit more a little later. They're based off of Esplaine, (cause they're always "esplaining things). Okay one more thing, sorry for the late update life got busy and then THAT CASTLE EPISODE KILLED ME AND I'M WRITING FROM MY GRAVE, HOLY MOTHER OF WHERE IS STANA'S EMMY._


	3. three: flowers for your grave

He called Madge to meet him at the father of Jessalyn Tisdale's office, and after twenty minutes of the two of them talking to the father they decided that there wasn't much information they'd gather from him, after all everything that he already knew about issues his daughter may have been having he had already told them at the beginning of the investigation.

They're walking outside of the street when Madge turns to him excitedly. "He's dying."

The detective gives her a confused, almost cold expression towards her excitement at the fact. "What?"

"He's a lot thinner now, I mean did you see the pictures on the walls? It's not even like he's trying to get into shape that's a 'you can't keep the weight on because you're sick' thin. And the way he touched his hair every once in a while. It's a piece. A good one, but it's still pretty new."

"Okay." Gale says with a nod, playing along with her theory. "But just because he's sick doesn't mean he's terminal."

"No," Madge concedes, biting her bottom lip for a second before shrugging. "But it makes a lot more sense if he is. Did you talk to her brother?"

Hawthorne shakes his head, reminding her that there was never really a reason to interview him. Her father was the next of kin and she didn't really have a relationship with her brother.

The writer simply smiles, a smile that's almost a triumphant smile, and a moment later Detective Hawthorne catches on. His jaw drops slightly before a slightly devious smile form over his features. "Now we have a reason to." He mutters before shooting her a look of approval; she smiles smugly and saunters off towards his car.

They arrive at the brother's office a few minutes later and ask him the routine questions.

"Where were you when you sister was murdered, Jackson?" Gale asks in the friendlest voice he can manage.

"I was out of town." Jackson Tisdale replies, walking over towards his desk and shuffling through the drawers. "Actually," he continues, pulling something out of the top drawer. He turns back towards the two investigators, tossing what he pulled out towards Gale, who catches it and realizes that it was a passport while Tisdale continues talking. "I was out of town for all three murders. Check the stamps."

"Well, thank you for your time." Gale says handing back to him as he heads towards the door.

"We'll keep you updated." Madge says with a small smile as she walks out. As soon as they are out of the building, she groans.

"I was so sure it was him!"

Gale chuckles. "He got to you?" When she raises her eyebrow in confusion, her arms crossed around her chest he gives her a look saying that what he was about to say should have been obvious. "He's lying."

"What?"

"It makes sense for him to know when his sister was murdered, but the other two? He had no reason to know, yet he was ready with an alibi. In my experience if you're innocent you're not going to be ready with an alibi."

Madge gives a surprised look, but then her face falls slightly, as if disappointed that she didn't realize it.

They head back to the precinct trying to figure out how to prove his guilt, and sit for almost an hour trying to break the key when Undersee jumps up excitedtly.

"A second passport! With his money he could easily get one off of the black market!"

Before any of them really realize what's happening, Jones and Everdeen are on the phone trying to get a note on where Tisdale is and Hawthorne and Undersee are on their way to get a warrant to search his place.

They arrive at his apartment only minutes after he does, and Gale looks over to Madge. "Undersee, if you're going in there you need to be armed. I've got a back up piece in the glove compartment."

She's skeptical, but leans over and shuffles through the compartment, only to find papers. Gale chuckles to himself, pulling his hand cuffs out and putting them on her so she stays in the car.

"You're staying put, and I don't trust you not to run in there."

He walks off, leaving a very confused and disappointed Madge next to the car.

Knocking on the door he calls out the required "NYPD", before adding on, "We have a warrant, open the door!"

He repeats himself twice before storming in, and when he does he sees Jackson Tisdale has fled the scene. His irritation in the situation shows clear when he answers his phone after it rings. He barley gets a "what" out when he hears the voice of the annoying write he left in the car.

"He's coming down the fire escape!" Gale hangs up at the statement, running towards the fire escape, and his heart races at the sight he sees. Tisdale has just planted his two feet on the ground and begins running, and Madge comes into sight, clearly free of the cuffs (one is still on her wrist, but the point of putting her in the car like he had was so that she wouldn't do something stupid), only a moment later

"Madge! Stop!" He calls over the railing as he watches her blonde hair fly behind her as she chases the suspect through the alley.

"I got him!" She calls back over her shoulder before she's out of sight, somewhere behind a dark van.

Its never a good sign when someone is being chased down a dead-end alley, someone is armed and the other has no chance of getting out of the situation with a pulse. He groans, taking the metal steps as quickly as he can manage. His feet reach the cement ground and as soon as they do he's in a full sprint until he reaches the van that Madge disappered behind.

His gun is held at the ready as he leans against the van, walking slowly to try and get the best surprise attack. There's a loud clattering sound which causes Gale to step forward quicker and sooner than he'd expected to. The sight he sees, Madge Undersee in all her glory is held against Tisdale's chest with his gun only inches away from her head, causes a slight panic in his chest, but he doesn't let it show.

"Stay back! Don't move! I swear to God, don't move!" Tisdale calls, at the same time Gale is telling him to let Undersee go. Tisdale steps back, but doesn't loosen his grip, taking the writer a few steps with him.

"You okay, Undersee?" He asks after a second, keeping his gun ready and pointed in Tisdale's direction. As he speaks, he tries to find a place to shoot, so that he can make it so that she gets out of the situation unharmed.

"Yeah, but psycho here could use a breath mint." Leave it to her to make a joke out of a near-death situation.

"Shut _up._" Tisdale all but screams in her ear, turning his face just a little bit so that he can look at her.

"You know what's bothering me? If your company was about to go under, why didn't you just ask for a loan from your rich Dad?" Gale groans at her comment towards the suspect and voices his concern.

"Undersee you aren't helping."

In her true fashion, she ignores him and continues to press the situation. "I bet you did, though. But he didn't budge, kept saying that it was your trust fund that would get you through and you needed to hold out, figure out how to do business on your own."

Gale slowly begins to crouch down, deciding to aim his gun towards Tisdale's knee, the best possible place for both Undersee and Tisdale out of the situation alive.

"It was _always _about Jessalyn. She was this perfect little princess in his mind."

Gale sees his grip beginning to slacken and prepares to take his shot, but as soon as he notices it, Tisdale does to and tightens his grip around Madge's neck. They step forward and Gale straightens his stance, knowing that he'll never get a clear shot now that they've moved. He almost wants to shoot Madge (nothing fatal, of course) due to her pushing of the whole motive situation, but the cop in him, as well as the generally good person he is, tells him not to

"So, that's why you killed her then? The money was just a plus, but you were jealous of your sister. And since your Dad wouldn't help bail you out of debt you wanted to punish him, and hey he never cared about you so you had to take away the only thing that he really loved before his sickness took him."

Jackson narrows his brow, pulling his neck back for a second to give Madge a confused, and slightly angry, look to match his tone of words. "Who are you?"

"It's over, Tisdale." Gale finally speaks up, and his words only seem to infuriate the suspect more, because now he pulls the gun on Gale.

"It's _not _over! It's not over until I-" The near rampage is cut off when Madge brings her now free arm back, elbowing Jackson Tisdale in the nose. The gun flies out of his hand and Madge excitedly catches it.

"Tell me you saw that!" She speaks her words with excitement as Gale runs over and pulls Tisdale's arms behind his back. "That's going in your report, right?"

"Cuffs, please?" Gale says gruffly, holding the struggling hands of Jackson. He hears her mumble something along the lines of "oh right" before handing him the pair of silver cuffs that he'd used on her. As soon as Tisdale was secure, he turns on Madge, his brow furrowing.

"What the hell were you thinking, Undersee, you could have gotten yourself killed!"

Madge chuckles, shaking her head. "Nah, the safety was on the whole time. For a killer he's not the sharpest tool in the shed?"

"And you didn't think to mention that before?" Gale presses, and much to his surprise he's slightly relieved by the confession.

"There's no fun in that." She retorts as she helps Gale pull Tisdale to his feet before handing him off to another officer to be taken to booking.

"Well, Undersee." Gale says as they're standing out front of the building as everything was wrapping up. "Guess this is it."

"Suppose so." She replies flatly, but her face has a slightly different expression, a friendly smile playing on her lips and a slight twinkle in her eyes. "Though it doesn't have to be. We could go get a cup of coffee or something, you know debrief each other."

Gale can't help himself as she hears the offer, and giving the best playful smile he can manage, he responds "Why, Undersee, so I can be your latest conquest for Page 6?"

She shrugs, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she bites down on her lip.

"I'll see you around, Madge." He gives her his hand, she shakes it with a firm nod, responding with a simple 'yeah, see you around.' before turning on her heel and walking away. Gale catches sight of her pulling her phone out of her bag and pushing her bangs away from her face and the actions cause a slight chuckle and a shake of the head. Perhaps he hadn't spent much time with the girl, only a few days, but he was an observer and he realized that whenever she was bored or nervous she'd check her phone or push her hair away from her face. He wondered what the case was this time.

He's back at the precinct, about ready to finish for the night when Captain approaches him. "Sir." Gale addresses with a nod.

"It would appear you have a fan, Detective." Abernathy's words cause Gale to raise a brow in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"I just got off the phone with the Mayor's office. Miss Undersee has taken quiet an interest in you and has found the newest inspiration for her next set of novels." He gives a nod towards Gale, and he's still slightly confused but doesn't say anything. Simply nods.

"And she's got to do ah, research."

Gale groans. "Sir..."

Captain interrupts, shaking his head. "She's spoken to the mayor directly. When they Mayor is happy, the commissioner is happy. And when he's happy, I'm happy."

Gale doesn't need anymore elaboration, he'd experienced an unhappy Captain one too many times and he doesn't wish, on anyone, to live _that _torture, so he most definitely does not want to relive it himself. So, with a deep breath, he pushes his hand through his ear and questions "How long?"

"Well," Abernathy says before nodding towards the door. "That's up to her."

Gale turns to see a blonde writer standing in the door way, a sly smile on her face and the same twinkle in her eye that she wore at the crime scene. She's leaning against the wood frame and her ankles are crossed as she waves her fingers at him. And then Gale knows, that when she was walking away, she was probably bored.

* * *

_I had literally the hardest time with this chapter, but yaaay. We're now done with Flowers For Your Grave!_ _Before we jump into another case (I mean, let's face it, this isn't really about the crime side of things) we're going to explore backgrounds a bit and answer some questions about their past that I know you guys are having. Many thanks to **blurredrealities **for helping me decide how to actually work this chapter into the story I have as well as what Castle had written since it's been a while since I've seen the episode. _


	4. four: hell hath no fury

"Ugh." He groans as he grabs his phone, which had just gone off and is now ringing the most irritating tone possible. A moment later he looks towards the girl next to him. "I gotta go."

Her phone chimes and she reaches over and groggily picks it up off the floor. Checking the message she lets out a soft exhale. "Me too." There's a pregnant pause in conversation as she looks over at him. Her face is stern, no emotion is shown and she's in full focus; she speaks her words in her authoritative "detective" voice. "Peeta Mellark." Her eyes lock with his as he adjusts the collar on the jacket he'd just pulled over his shoulder. "When we get to this crime scene you don't look at me, you don't give me that little smile of yours and you don't even _think _of talking to me unless it's related to the case. Got it?"

As she spoke sternly, he made his way so that he's now towering over her small frame, which is still sitting on the bed. Her arms are crossed and resting on her knees, which are pulled up towards her chest. She takes this moment to examine his features, realizing that what she had gotten herself into with him could be a huge mistake. She doesn't ponder on the thought long because a moment later the blonde leans over and kisses her forehead; he gives no response to the question she'd asked but simply responds with his own

. "See you at the scene?" He questions, and she responds with a nod. As soon as he's gone, she finds a smile forming across her face; shaking her head slightly, she quickly pulls her brown locks back into a braid.

* * *

"Oh God." Madge forces the swallow of coffee down her throat, her hand inches from her mouth as she shakes her head slightly. "This is very possible the worst coffee I've ever tasted."

"Mhmm." The detective across from her mumbles his agreement. Now Madge realizes why Detective Hawthorne always stops for coffee before coming into his shifts.

Relaxing back into her chair after tossing the disposable cup in the trash next to her, she lets her gaze drift to the tall brunette who is currently lost in his paperwork. Her slender fingers twist around a section of her blonde hair in an attempt to cure her boredem. It doesn't work, and she ends up noting that she has more split ends then a high-class New Yorker should have.

"Don't you have a book coming out today or something?" Gale asks after a few moments with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Madge shrugs. "Yeah, so?"

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, be promoting it?"

She shrugs again. "I like it here."

"So you have a book coming out today and you're sitting here watching me do paperwork."

Madge raises her brow, questioning the problem with the situation without actually speaking the words.

"It's creepy." Hawthorne elabortes, before realization hits him; and once it does a sly smile forms across his features. "You're hiding."

Scoffing, Madge shakes her head. He was right, but the writer wouldn't ever admit that. "I don't know what gave you that idea."

Gale, however, gives the impression that he isn't buying her story and continues to press her on the fact. "I thought you didn't care what people think?"

"I don't." Madge clarifies, and when she realizes that she'd just given herself up, her face falls. Sighing, she slouches back into the chair. "Most of the time. "

She doesn't get a reply from her partner, though, because his phone rings right then and he answers with the traditional "Hawthorne." Madge perks when she sees him reach over for a notepad and scribble it down. When he tells the person on the other side of the call that he'll be right there she questions if there's a body. His ignoring her and continuing to walk with keys in hand she smiles and exclaims to herself; "Yes."

* * *

"This the girl?" A uniform questions Hawthorne, who trails a few steps ahead of her.

"You heard?" He offers in reply.

"Everyone's heard, Detective." The officer then turns towards the writer. "Is it true you're basing your next book on Detective Hawthorne here?"

Madge smiles, stepping over the threshold of the apartment where the crime scene was. "Every artist needs a muse."

When she turns around so she's not walking backwards, the detective was standing a few steps in front of her. He narrows his gaze and looks her over once before pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Call me a muse again and I'll break both of your legs, kay?"

The tone didn't even need to be threatening; which, Madge noted, it wasn't. The message came across clearly, so she gives him an innocent look and speaks the simple word "'Kay."

"So, what do we got?" Gale asks as he turns to Katniss Everdeen, another detective that Madge was going to have a character in her next novel based off of (she, however, had no idea that the author was doing this.)

"Rolled up rug in a dumpster." Katniss supplies, and Jones elaborates with "Two new renters decide that it's their lucky day and bring it up here. Unroll it and John Doe here decides to make a grand entrance."

They make their way over to the body, crouching down so they're now eye level with the ME, who begins giving the information he's discovered. "Close range shot, killed instantly. I'd put TOD to be about 12-24 hours ago."

Gale nods, his eyes not leaving the body. "ID?"

"Pockets were empty." Everdeen replies to which Hawthorne nods once.

Peeta rolls the body over as Gale asks if he would do what he could for an ID. Madge smiles.

"Don't bother." The confusion in everyone's eyes doesn't go unnoticed. "I know who he is."

* * *

"Carson Hampt." The detective says, pinning the headshot of him next to the crime scene photo on the whiteboard. He turns to the writer, raising a brow and a questioning tone ringing through his words. "He a friend of yours?"

She chuckles, ignoring the subtle hint in the word "friend" that Gale had spoken. "_No_," She makes sure to add stress on the word, not wanting to cause tension on the case. "I recognize him from the vast amount of bus benches through the city. State senate. Running for re-election this season."

"Great." She hears him mumble, reaching over and grabbing a manila file folder from a uniform officer. "Press is going to have a field day with this one."

"Gale?" Looking over to the source of the flat voice, Detective Everdeen motions towards the interview room. "Wife is here."

The go through the routine questions with the victims wife.

"Is there anyone who would want to hurt your husband?" "No, he devoted his life to trying to make a better place for the kids. Oh, what am I going to tell my girls?"

"When was the last time you saw him?" "Yesterday morning. With the re-election he's been working later and later and I've been working graves lately."

Madge didn't hide the disappointment in the lack of information they got from the interview during the car ride to Hampt's office. Her face wears a blank expression as she rests her elbow on the door, her window cracked slightly so her hair whips against her face.

"You know if this case is boring for you you can _go home". _The detective says, not hiding the fact that he wants her to leave. She stifles a chuckle at his words. If there was anything she didn't want to do it was go home and see the reviews for her book or listen to her Dad lecture her on how proud or disappointed in her he was (depending on the success or failure of the novel)

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously. You're clearly not enjoying yourself, I think I've seen you do that thing where you twirl your hair through your fingers every other second."

She turns towards him, a shocked look on her face at the fact that he noticed_ and remembered _that she picked at her hair when she was bored. With a shake of her head, she looks back out the windshield; "This case is going to be good. I mean it's a public figure who was murdered. I'm not missing anything."

* * *

_This chapter was super hard to write so I to rely on **blurredrealities **quiet a bit, so thanks for that hun. Kind of boring but also important to the story. I've hinted a little bit at the Katniss/Peeta relationship at the beginning (like Laine and Espo in "Poof! You're Dead.") which will be added on to in the second part of this chapter series. _


End file.
